


the song of the lamb

by contorno



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:55:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24540427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/contorno/pseuds/contorno
Summary: There should be music.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 79





	the song of the lamb

**Author's Note:**

> this exists because i wanted to see if i could write something from hannibal's perspective, considering what a difficult character he is. feel free to let me know how i did !

There should be music – something quiet and filled with longing that builds and builds. Not loud by any means, but violent in its passion, and its gentleness. The howling of the wind like flutes, the thrashing of the sea like cymbals. Their voices will be violins. 

A cacophony as chaotic as it is striking. Hannibal's breath catches in his throat at the mere thought of it. 

“This is all I ever wanted for you, Will.” He averts his eyes for a moment, lowering his head, and the melody quietens. The tremor in his voice matches that of his heart. “For both of us.” 

The music, real or imagined, stops entirely when Will not only meets his eyes, but holds them captive. All fades into the background until it becomes but a dull kind of static; the sound of the needle scratching against the record as it comes to a sudden halt. 

A smile spreads across Will's face, slow and captivating. How foolish Hannibal was, to think anything could compare to the radiance of him. Countless compositions have tightened his chest, have brought him to tears, but now, with Will so close to him, he could not remember the name of any of them. Even the porcelain moon pales in his presence. 

“It's beautiful.” 

For all the experiences Hannibal has had in his life, pleasant and unpleasant, some of them overwhelming, he has never felt like this. The world around him blurs into vague shapes and muted colors, and he isn’t sure it’s only due to all the blood he has lost. The sight of Will, the shameless existence of him, both grounds and unravels him. He can’t see anything but Will, doesn’t want to. 

Will’s hand slides up his arm, not careless but still pressing firmly despite their many wounds, and the touch sets his heart on a rabid chase. The hand comes to rest at the nape of Hannibal’s neck, skin against skin. Hannibal can do nothing but stare and anticipate. 

Time slows as Will pulls him in. He’s hesitant as he does so, but Hannibal follows, malleable and compliant as soft clay. In this moment, he finds, there is little he wouldn’t do for Will. Maybe he would do anything. 

Which parts of his body are still receptible to touch, he isn’t sure, but even if his skin was plagued by numbness, he would have felt the gentle pressure of Will’s forehead against his own. It is as if a fever spreads through him, starting at his head and streaming downwards to his chest and belly. Where mere seconds ago the wind chilled him to the bone, warmth has returned once again. 

Fresh blood trickles from Will’s cheek, glinting with wetness. Hannibal wants to put his hand there – to stop the bleeding, yes, but also to taste him at the tips of his fingers. Then his eyes land on Will’s mouth, agape as he pants softly, and all other thoughts are forgotten. 

Will doesn’t ask before he leans in. He doesn’t have to. For them, there exists no such thing as denial, not anymore, only the beginnings of desire, pulsing under their skin like a second heartbeat. 

Hannibal’s breath dies in his throat when Will’s mouth meets his. They stand there, unmoving, and so Will pulls back again, unsure if he has done the right thing, and Hannibal, who cannot bear to let go, moves with him. 

Will chuckles, breathless, and kisses him again. 

They stay motionless but for the soft pressing of mouth against mouth. Both of them are too exhausted to do anything more, and Hannibal isn’t sure he would survive the urgent caress of Will’s tongue against his own, both offering and taking. 

When Will pulls away, Hannibal is left lightheaded and awestruck. He watches as Will rests his head against his chest and wonders if Will can hear his pounding heart, calling out to him. His own head tips back in disbelief before he moves closer to him again. Nuzzling his head against Will’s is not so much a conscious choice as it is a reflex. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt himself losing control of his body, let alone not being bothered by it. 

His vision is blurred by tears and so he closes his eyes. There is nothing left to see for him, only to feel. 

He wants to tell Will that he loves him, but there are no words, none he is aware of, that could express how he feels. He would have to invent another language, just for them. Maybe, if they have more time, he will. 

Will’s grip around him tightens and Hannibal doesn’t push back as he is moved towards the edge of the cliff. He pulls Will closer, so that they will never have to slip from each other’s grip. 

As they fall, Hannibal thinks only of Will’s breath against his neck and of their hearts beating so close to one another. 

If there was music, it would fade, relentlessly, into silence. 


End file.
